


Talk me down

by icouldhavedroppedmyscone



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 11:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icouldhavedroppedmyscone/pseuds/icouldhavedroppedmyscone
Summary: If Baz did really talk Simon down in Elocution





	Talk me down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Not sure if elocution really was the class that Baz wanted to talk Simon down in but let's pretend? Hope you like :)

SIMON

Elocution was not Simon Snow’s favourite class. Far from it. In fact, Simon had been sent away from almost every Elocution class in the last month. It was something about the thickness of magic in the air, the frustration that fizzed underneath his skin when he couldn’t master a simple spell, the feeling that from the moment he took out his wand, the whole class sighed in unison… Simon wasn’t good at much, and for the most part, it didn’t bother him. But trailing out of class in a plume of colourful smoke, hair singed and eyes watering from going off, leaving a tableau of chaos behind him, Simon sometimes wished that he was someone else.

Today’s class was standard. Simon had been called back, despite leaving almost the entire class mute after the spell _speakeasy_ had drastically backfired. Simon wondered why he was still allowed to go to the class, but this had been cleared up when he overheard a conversation between the Mage and Madam Bellamy, waiting outside the Mage’s office to have their weekly tea and chat. ‘He’s a disaster,’ the weathered teacher had exclaimed, a tone of exasperation sharpening her voice. ‘He’s making the class _impossible_.’ But the Mage had insisted that he continue to take her class. It was essential for him to be given constant opportunities to master his magic, he said, for the best chance of some small step towards success. Simon had heard enough.

BAZ

Upon entering charms today, Simon looked positively ruined. Flustered, embarrassed, he could barely hold his wand, let alone operate it in some functional manner. Simon was going to go off and Baz could see that it would hurt his classmates, but more importantly, it would destroy Simon himself. Baz had seen the lavender-haired girl, Bunce, holding his arm, trying to keep his two feet on the ground, but there was something in the set of his eyes and the particular whirlwind that the apple-cheeked boy had brought with him that looked like a menace to control. It was just a simple spell, warming and cooling, but it was only halfway through the class before the boy began steaming up like water in a kettle, bubbling away in his own little cauldron of frustration, anger and embarrassment. On days like this, Baz just wanted to take Simon aside and talk him down. Stand below him in a cool corner of the room and bring him down from the mess of feelings that were propelling him up. Baz watched Simon from the other side of the room, a hand in his pocket, flicking his wand absentmindedly as the space around him rapidly changed in temperature. The decision was made and with a click he set his wand on the desk, and strode across the floor towards Simon.

SIMON

The cooling spell spread frost along Simon’s skin, and yet he was burning inside. His vision went blurry at the edges and the words of his friend Penelope and the warnings of Madam Bellamy sounded distant and unreachable. It was Simon and his smoke, his magic, sucking in like the tide before a tsunami, when he felt a cool hand take his arm and spin him away to the edge of the classroom. A pair of grey eyes came into focus and as the other boy’s words filtered in, the world reasserted itself in Simon’s mind. _‘Deep breaths,’_ the boy was saying, _‘Whatever it is, it can’t be solved like this. Focus on me, let it go.’_ Simon concentrated on the feeling of Baz’s hand on his arm, and then on his shoulder, when it moved there. He took a deep breath in and with each one, counted and encouraged by his rescuer, Simon found himself drifting back to the ground. It was the first time he had stopped on the precipice of going off in a long time. And when he came back, the first things he felt were fondness and a sense of impenetrable calm that seemed to flood in through Baz’s fingers and fill up his whole body.

BAZ

Baz stepped back. It was seventh year, and he was tired, but this scene hit a little too close to home for him to let it exist for much longer. Simon’s red-rimmed eyes met his and Baz sighed. ‘Couldn’t let you stink up the classroom again, Snow,’ he shrugged. ‘You’re making things too easy for me.’ And with that, Baz turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving in his wake – Baz left many things and people in his wake – a flustered, dreamy and utterly confused Simon.


End file.
